


Stars In His Eyes

by rae_aaah



Series: Written for Others [11]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Competitive Dancing AU, Dancing, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-13
Updated: 2019-11-13
Packaged: 2021-01-30 06:44:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,504
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21423895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rae_aaah/pseuds/rae_aaah
Summary: He admits that their relationship didn’t get off to a good start. Keith was too hot-headed and stubborn, and Lance thought that he shit gold whenever he smiled. Both of them unwilling to admit that the other was good at what they did in their separate ways.But it’s undeniable that Keith is beautiful. Even back then Lance’s blood had heated as he watched Keith, his bright eyes full of stars, the long fall of his hair whipping around as he moved, how the muscles of his thighs bunched and flexed as he jumped- all of it. Even then, Lance was enraptured.
Relationships: Keith/Lance (Voltron)
Series: Written for Others [11]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1406800
Comments: 4
Kudos: 55





	Stars In His Eyes

**Author's Note:**

> Written for gilove2dance. They wanted a Dancing with the Stars sorta AU where Keith and Lance get thrown together as partners and you know the rest.

The lights are dim and Lance’s heart is pounding so hard that he worries that the entire audience is going to hear it. But that’s okay. It’s okay because Keith is right here, his hand holding his. He ignores the lights, ignores the heavy weight of thousands of eyes; just focuses on his breathing, focuses on Keith, right here, steady, hand holding his. 

He counts down in his head as the music starts, his muscles already itching for motion, but he has to wait for the note. The anticipation is killing him, but they haven’t practiced all these days and nights and weeks for nothing. His sweat isn’t the only thing he’s shed and Lance pushes the memory of his reddened face as he leaned over the sink to cry. 

No, that’s not what he’s here for.

He’s here to win.

With Keith.

He admits that their relationship didn’t get off to a good start. Keith was too hot-headed and stubborn, and Lance thought that he shit gold whenever he smiled. Both of them unwilling to admit that the other was good at what they did in their separate ways. 

But it’s undeniable that Keith is beautiful. Even back then Lance’s blood had heated as he watched Keith, his bright eyes full of stars, the long fall of his hair whipping around as he moved, how the muscles of his thighs bunched and flexed as he jumped- all of it. Even then, Lance was enraptured. 

The beat starts to pick up, and Lance braces as he lifts Keith a few inches off the ground, and it’s not like Lance can’t, but Keith is still compact, just as tall as him. Still heavier than a woman, but he’s fast, and he slithers around Lance’s body like a snake.

Keith presses full and sure against him, the heat of his body intense. 

Lance knows what they looks like, spent hours and minutes and seconds that lasted forever in front of the studio’s floor to ceiling mirrors, pushing each other, pushing  _ at  _ each other, getting as close as they could get, closer still when Keith had yanked him around, and pressed them flush together. 

Lance had looked into Keith’s face, his telling face- the one that showed every single emotion he felt. Desire, admiration, awe, frustration- 

Lance pushes that thought away as well. Focus, he has to focus. They have to win this or it would all be for nothing. 

“Let go,” Keith murmurs, voice pitched low, bringing him right back to the present. “Don’t think about them,” he says. He grips hard at Lance’s waist, spins him around, tucks him right up against his front. “We practiced this so many times,” he pants, and presses his hips into the give of Lance’s ass. “You choreographed it, you know the moves,” he says. 

Keith dips him, long and deep, and Lance’s spine stretches beautifully. 

“Let go and have fun with me,” Keith says, smile playing on his face. 

And here is where Keith catches him, pulls him back up. They line up, chest to stomach to thigh. He smells like sweat and powder, and, under that, cedar wood and heat off of a fire. His face is cutely pink and a little shiny from perspiration, his skin shimmering slightly from the makeup Lance had put on him. Keith’s hair is pulled half-up, away from his face, but strands still stick to his neck and all Lance wants to do is push them away with his fingers, kiss on that salty skin-

Lance laughs, throws his head back-

Slides his fingers through Keith’s hair, damp and sweaty at his nape. The smell of his shampoo billows out and Lance is heady with it. 

When he straightens, he grips at the roots of Keith’s hair, pulls him in, presses their mouths together, and, in the distant background, the crowd screams. 

Elation rushes outwards from his gut, deep-seated butterflies finally being set loose. When he looks at Keith again, Keith’s smile matches his own. Wide. Wild. 

Without words, they break away. 

They stand a good lengths away from each other, and the air suddenly changes. Lance gives Keith a nod, and starts running at him. 

They haven’t practiced this before, but Lance’s body moves without his permission, adrenaline and unbridled joy dancing in his veins. Keith is ready for him, and even though he doesn’t look like he’s about to pick up at least two hundred pounds of Loverboy Lance, Lance sees it in the way his thighs are tensed, how the cords in his neck and shoulders and arms stand out. 

Lance leaps and Keith holds him at the waist, Lance’s back curling around him. Keith holds him against his hip, hands heavy and sturdy and hot. They move with the music, pieces from their practiced choreography getting spliced into their impromptu dance and Lance’s heart is soaring. 

When the song finishes, they are met with thunderous applause, the judges standing and clapping for them as well. Keith’s hand is hot in his and when Lance brushes his thumb against Keith’s pulse point, he finds it racing. They stand and Lance tries to listen, he really does, but the way Keith smells, how the heat rolls off of him in waves, pushes all those other thoughts out of his head. 

Judging by the way Keith glances at him, catching his eye every so often, he’s in the same boat as him.

The two of them get ushered into the back to get cleaned up and ready for the final call. Keith’s hand grips his so tightly as they walk down the narrow hall. People hoot and cheer, and all of them press against the walls as Keith pushes through them, laughter in their voices, smiles on their faces. Lance happens to see the other contestants in the waiting room, and they all give him knowing looks.

Oh, god- and he puts his hand over his eyes and laughs, gets dragged deeper into the back of the studio where Keith flings open their door, ushers Lance inside, and presses him up against it, shutting it with a loud bang.

His mouth seals over his, sweet and hot, and Lance moans against his invading tongue. 

“You looked amazing,” Keith murmurs against his lips. His hands are hot points, pressing all along Lance’s skin. “I just, Lance, you,” and Keith is kissing at him more, fervently, desperately. 

Lance rolls his forehead against Keith’s. “God, you’re so strong, I knew you were but- like, mmf!” and Lance winces from where Keith’s teeth sunk a little too deeply into his lip. Want zings through him and his fingers tangle in Keith’s hair, drags his face in as close as it can get. 

Keith’s hand travels down from his waist to his thigh, squeezing, lifting it and Lance is wrapping it around the just of Keith’s hip. He does the same with the other and soon, Lance is braced against the door, his legs around Keith, easily taking all his weight. The vee of his thighs rub up against Keith’s pelvis, and god, he’s hard. Keith is hard. Those pants don’t hide anything-

“Keith, Keith,” Lance chants, breathing heavy between their open mouths.

“Be my partner,” he sighs out, starting to move against Lance, slow sweet friction. “Be mine,” he says. Lance’s skin heats from cheek to chest to the deep seated need in his belly. 

“Yes,” he answers. “Yes.”

Keith rubs more insistently against him, rubbing his hard cock all between Lance’s open legs. The smell of him invades all of Lance’s senses, the salty taste of him, the heat of him. All of it. 

“‘M not gonna come in my pants,” Lance huffs between them, fighting against the telltale tightening of the coil in his gut. “Not a- mmn! Teenager-”

Keith chuckles against Lance’s throat, sucks the skin there and Lance whines, knows that he bruises easily. Knows that when they get called back out onto the stage to listen to the final score, everyone will see it. 

The thought has his hard-on jumping in his pants, and Keith chuckles against his mouth knowingly. He keeps kissing at Lance’s mouth, keeps holding him close, and when he finally pulls away, face reddened and eyes hazy, Lance has the embarrassing thought to want this welling feeling be his for a very long time. 

There’s a heavy knock on the door and a woman’s brisque voice comes through the wood. “You’re due out on the stage in five minutes,” she says, doesn’t even try the door handle. 

Lance has the distinct impression that he’s being judged. 

Keith lets him down gently, still huddled close. He tucks his nose behind Lance’s ear, inhales. “Smell good,” he says before drawing back. He nuzzles his nose against the crest of Lance’s cheek and his hand squeezes at Lance’s hip one last time before disengaging completely. His eyes are clear again, stars out even during the day time. 

“We’re gonna win this,” he says with certainty. 

And they do.


End file.
